Body Heat II
by Barnett Tennyson
Summary: What happened to Ned and Matty after Body Heat? Read this account!


BODY HEAT II  
-- by Barnett Tennyson  
  
You have written and asked what happened to Ned and Matty after their tragic misadventure that was portrayed in the movie Body Heat. As you know, I followed the criminal case quite closely and wrote about it in the Miranda Beach Reporter. It caused a sensation in our small town and discussions, about Matty especially, continued for many months.  
  
Having met and talked with Ned Racine during his legal problems, I continued to stay in touch with him after his incarceration. I, along with his defense counsel, were the first to learn from him about the High School Year Book, and how it appeared that the woman who seduced him in so many ways was actually a close friend of the true Matty: a young woman named Mary Anne Simpson. At first most of us dismissed that possibility as merely too preposterous to be true. Assistant D.A. Peter Lowenstein, who prosecuted Ned, suggested that there probably was a mix up of sorts with the photographs in the Year Book.  
  
But Ned would not be dissuaded. After corresponding with other graduates whose pictures appeared in the Year Book he discovered that there was no mix up, and in fact his "Matty", apparently married to shady businessman Edmund Walker, was Mary Anne. So it was no surprise that dental records proved that the real Matty had died when the boathouse exploded.  
  
As a result, a concerted effort was mounted to locate Mary Anne Simpson, but it added up to nothing. And this bit of information did not affect Ned's incarceration for the murder of Edmund Walker.  
  
As such, Ned determined to be a model prisoner and seek parole at every opportunity. His early efforts were fruitless, but, after five years behind bars, and a plethora of positive recommendations, he was paroled. Not there was not an outcry for a time, that a murderer, and a lawyer at that, would be released after so little time served. The counter to that, of course, was that rehabilitation was a major goal of incarceration, and the overcrowding of the nation's jails came into play as well.  
  
As Ned walked free, I was there to see him and wish him well. He shook my hand, but in an absent minded way. His gaze was far off, as if staring hard at something the rest of us could not see. He mumbled a thank you, and walked off, staring as it were at a clear and singular path that he would pursue. I called after him, saying, "I'm here, if you ever want to talk." He paused for a moment, turned and gave me a slight smiling nod. And then was off. What follows I gleaned from communications with Ned, and other sources.  
  
You may remember Teddy. He was a bomb maker and small time crook that Ned had represented and approached during his mad obsession with Matty. (I will call her Matty since it seems appropriate in reference to Ned's belief during those times.) Ned contacted Teddy as soon as he was released. His goal, of course, was to track down Matty, where-ever she might be. He knew the trail would be cold, even if he could find a trail. But there was simply no other course for Ned. He was still obsessed with Matty, though for far different reasons that all those years earlier.  
  
Teddy had been in and out of trouble during Ned's incarceration, but at the moment was out of jail, and hustling about as usual. As with most underworld types, Teddy knew many of his compatriots, a kind of brotherhood of cons and criminals. Ned knew the only way to track Matty would be to follow the money. She inherited the entire estate of Edmund, thanks to a cleverly inserted "mistake" in his will. Ned remembered years earlier Matty telling him by telephone that she had the money and had sent it somewhere safe. So, where did the money go? Teddy agreed to help.  
  
Teddy introduced Ned to Bruno a few evenings later. Bruno loved computer software challenges. He listened intently to Ned and Teddy's story of Matty, and though it was somewhat contradictory, considering some of his hacking operations, he was outraged at the immorality of Matty's actions. Ned told Bruno about the estate, Edmund's lawyers in Miami. Did Ned know what bank Matty had used? No? No matter, no problema.  
  
Bruno stood to leave. Where was he going? He looked at his watch. "The library," he said. "Open for another three hours." When they looked at him blankly he said, "best place to use a computer for, ah, some kinda searches."  
  
They met again two days later. Bruno had some print outs. "She sold all the securities and transferred the funds to this account," he said, pointing to one page. Money was wired to the Turks and Caicos Islands. "Pretty tricky. But I got friends, so does Teddy, who dump a lotta dough there. And there are ways around their firewalls, there always is." Teddy looked at another sheet. "After that, a pile of money was sent through Switzerland to a bank in Nice, France. From what I got so far, some of it is still there. There's even an address."  
  
Teddy had an admiration for Ned's persistence, and appreciated the times Ned had helped him out of jams without charging him. For the moment, as it often is with those operating outside of the law, Teddy was well fixed cash wise.  
  
With Teddy's help, Ned flew to Nice. He hailed a cab at the aeroport, and was transfixed by the beautiful blue of the Mediterranean and the white pebble stone beach as the cab sped eastward on the Promenade des Anglais. A large rock promontory jutted out ahead and the road wrapped around it, into the old port of Nice. Trendy restaurants and ornate old buildings lined the streets. Ned had picked up a tourist map in the aeroport, and knew that just twenty minutes down the winding coastal road was the Principality of Monaco. He had handed Matty's address to the cab driver, and as they passed eastward of the old port the driver made a right turn onto Boulevard General de Gaulle. The cabbie remarked, "St. Jean-Cap Ferrat. Tres exclusive." Ned soon appreciated the comment, as the small peninsula was dotted with expensive homes and estates. The cab pulled up in front of one of the more modest homes, but one with a spectacular view of the Mediterranean. Ned asked the cabbie to wait, and knocked at the door. A man answered. He did not recognize the picture of Matty that Ned showed him He had rented the house for some time. As they chatted at the door, Ned noticed a housekeeper behind them, dusting furniture. She glanced at them often, looking hard at Ned.  
  
Ned thanked the new tenant and returned to the cab. He asked the cabbie to drive down the block and stop. About five in the afternoon, the housekeeper left and Ned approached her Though cautious at first, and rather non committal, the housekeeper, who knew enough English to get by, reacted with scorn looking at the photo. A $50 bill was passed to her by Ned, who softly pleaded for help. The housekeeper opened up, about the condescending, demanding American woman, who was a brunette, she said. Away most of the time. Where did she go? "Right before she fire me, I hear her on the phone," the housekeeper said. "She making air line reservations." "Where to?" "Far away from here - Bora Bora."  
  
It was a long haul for Ned, from Nice to Paris to Tahiti. As his plane approached Bora Bora, Ned was struck with the nearly unbelievable beauty of the Island. This is how he put it to me: "It appeared like a beautiful blue amethyst had been dropped into the navy-hued sea. The main island, a deep blue green of foliage, was ribboned with slices of rivers and streams. Sand bars in varying shades of pale and sandy turquoise seemed to swirl around the island and a number of smaller islets. And all of this surrounded by a slim white halo of sandy beach and coral, in a free form shape of a pentagon."  
  
Not sure where to begin, Ned reasoned that Matty would likely have chosen one of the more expensive resorts. He found a modest hotel in town, and from there began visiting the more upscale resorts. The Blue Lagoon Resort was the third he visited, a fabulous resort on its own private island, with cottages built of local pandanas roots and leaves directly over the waters of the lagoon. It was getting tedious for Ned, showing the now dog eared photo of Matty to so many locals with no results. So it was anticlimactic in a way when a local young man working as a beach boy immediately lost the friendly smile on his face upon seeing the visage of Matty.  
  
His face told a story but Ned needed to hear it. Ned described to the boy how Matty had hurt him bitterly and he was determined to find her. The beach boy could see the sincerity in Ned's demeanor, creating a kind of camaraderie, and opened up. Matty had taken him as a lover. He believed her entreaties of true affection. And then, just as quickly as he had fallen hard for her, she had dumped him and left the resort. Though Ned persisted for more, the young man, quite honestly enough it appeared, repeated that he had no idea where she had gone.  
  
Ned took the regular shuttle boat back to the main island. He returned to his small hotel and, with the heat of the day intense, lay back about noon on his bed. How long he had slept he was not sure when he was awakened by a soft knock on his door. As he roused himself, he glanced out over the small balcony of his room to see the blazing sunset. He opened the door to the stern face of a local woman who appeared to be about thirty years old.  
  
Though the look appeared to be rather accusatory, Ned invited her in. What was on her mind? Her name was Aleeta, and her brother worked as a beach boy at the Blue Lagoon resort. "You have a picture of the woman?" she asked. Ned showed it to her, and her visceral reaction to it was palpable. She related how the woman had used her brother for her own pleasures, and how she quickly dumped him when the Sheik showed up. Sheik? In a somewhat rambling discourse, she related that Matty had stayed at the resort for some weeks, that her brother had heard her on the phone, apparently with her bank, with some frantic discussions. It appeared Matty may have been running low on money. But then the Arab Sheik had appeared, with a huge entourage. His name was Masoud Ayoub and was fabulously wealthy. Matty had apparently taken up with him while living in St. Jean- cap-Ferrat. From what Aleeta could gather from her rather hapless younger brother, Matty had flown to Bora Bora suddenly after a tiff with the Sheik. He, as a growing number of men had also experienced, had become infatuated with her, and soon pursued her to Bora Bora. After a week of courting, where Matty "succumbed" to the Sheik's charms, they departed. To where? Aleeta could not be sure, but a room service clerk had heard the Sheik speak of an estate in Marbella, Spain.  
  
It was in the early a.m. hours that Ned walked leisurely into the Casino Marbella. He scanned the room carefully as he moved between the blackjack tables. Even at that hour, the casino was crowded with mostly well dressed people. He heard a brief round of laughter and cheers, and turned toward the craps table across the room. He moved closer and saw Matty, dripping in diamonds and dressed to the hilt, shaking the cubes in her right hand. Beside her was a well dressed man in a tailored suit. He watched her adoringly, attentive to her every glance, smile, flirtatious gesture. Semitic in appearance, he could have been in his forties or fifties. A slight smile crossed Ned's face too. After years, and now thousands of miles of travel, he had found her. He wasn't surprised that she had changed but little. Her hair was blonde again, and she looked radiant, as a woman often does after she has gotten a man of great wealth.  
  
Ned carefully walked away, it was not the time.  
  
That time came a few days later. It was midday on the beach. The summer sun was sweltering as Ned walked, his shirt unbuttoned and suit coat slung over his shoulder, down the surf line. About fifty yards away, lying back in a lounge chair, was Matty. The heat of the sun was shimmering on the sand, giving distant views a wavy, watery eeriness. Ned noticed that Matty and looked down the beach his way, and then had sat up, lifting her sunglasses. In the wavering heat, Ned must have looked like a mirage.  
  
As he approached the lounge chair, Matty stared with a stunned look. And then exclaimed, "Oh, my God, Ned . Ned!" and leaped up to embrace him. "Oh, how did you do it, how? You have no idea how often I had hoped . against all hope .oh, Ned I have dreamed of this." And she embraced him again, kissing him deeply on the lips.  
  
She said she must see him later, but had to be careful because of her "friend." Ned gave her his hotel and room number and then walked back down the beach, disappearing in the undulating summer haze.  
  
Ned wondered if she would actually come to his room, and if so when. He did not have to wait long, for that evening she appeared. Wearing a tight, nearly see-through dress and wearing cologne that Ned instantly recalled, she was followed by a porter wheeling a cart, with champagne, caviar and an assortment of pates.  
  
As they shared the champagne and snacks, Matty was just amazing. As though the horrors were but a long ago fiction, she professed her love for Ned, how horrid her life had been, traveling, running. Yes, there had been a few men, but none of them mattered. Only Ned. She was still madly in love with him. As the evening wore on, and cool breezes swept through Ned's room, their light kissing soon developed into raging desire. Once in bed they went wild, their carnal attraction as virulent as the night Ned smashed into Matty's house.  
  
Over the ensuing days they would meet at the hotel room, sometimes in the morning, then afternoons, anytime Matty could arrange it. And during these trysts Matty filled Ned in on Masoud. A billionaire, he was crazy about Matty. As the conversation developed and evolved, they began to hatch a plot that excited them almost as much as their insatiable sexual attraction for each other.  
  
Using Matty's remaining funds, they set up companies in the Isle of Man, Bermuda and Switzerland, a Liechtenstein Trust. With further help of Bruno, Teddy's hacker friend, all was ready when Matty introduced Ned, by then attired in expensive Italian casual and dress clothes, and driving a brand new Porsche 911, as an investment banker and venture capitalist friend of Matty's brother. They took the relationship slowly, to build up confidence and comfort with Masoud.  
  
When all was said and done, Masoud had one of his banks wire $30 million to Ned's venture capital company. And soon thereafter, Matty, as a clever and desirable woman often can, slowly cooled the relationship with Masoud. Then came the "call" that her mother had died. And she had to leave right away.  
  
The house near Lucerne, Switzerland was situated high on a prominent hillside, offering beautiful views of the Alps to the south. Though money was no problem, Matty and Ned decided to just rent the house for a time, to see if the area suited them. Matty began painting, and enjoyed antiquing, while Ned loved the winter skiing, and hikes through the mountainous trails in the off season. Things were good, great really, and they took turns making each other café au lait each morning.  
  
One Wednesday, Ned gave Matty a tender kiss and said he was going into town for a bit. He drove his Porsche into town, parked it, and walked a few blocks to a BMW motorcycle dealer. He bought a new touring model, leathers, boots, all the paraphernalia, for which he paid cash. And, with a smile on his face, he mounted the bike, fired it up, and motored out of Lucerne, southward toward the Italian Alps.  
  
Matty too left the rented home shortly after Ned did, and drove her BMW "M" sedan swiftly to the Zurich airport, some 70 kilometers away, where she purchased a ticket and took a Lufthansa flight that was scheduled to stop in Paris and then proceed on to Toronto Canada.  
  
A couple months later, with the rent not paid, and after numerous calls and attempted visits by the landlord, he showed up at the house with the Politzei. They entered the house, and discovered that most of Ned and Matty's belongings were still there. One policeman entered the kitchen, looking at everything. Finally, out of boredom, curiosity or thoroughness, he opened the refrigerator door. He apparently did not see the very thin, light gauge wire running from the door to the refrigerator. In the next instant, the entire house erupted in a series of three thunderous explosions.  
  
In spite of an intense police investigation involving the USA, Switzerland, Interpol and other law enforcement organizations, not to mention my own inquiries, no further sign of Ned or Matty has been discovered. Any records of companies and bank accounts that might have been in the house were utterly destroyed in the blast and fire.  
  
And so the story, at least for now, ends. Many questions have been answered, but some remain. Who rigged the house to explode? Ned? Matty? Both of them, together? Or could if have been engineered by Masoud, perhaps? For now, I leave that to your imagination. 


End file.
